Melorra Green, who co-founded A.R.T. with her twin sister, Melonie. "You don't have to pick up a gun or deal drugs."

Who would have thought that the young Vernon Davis would become such a well-rounded individual? Isn't this the man Mike Singletary ordered off the field in his very first game as head coach? Isn't this the man who got in a fight with Michael Crabtree in practice last year? Yup. Same man, different attitude.

"Coach Singletary definitely touched my life," said Davis, the rare pro athlete who was shown up in public and learned rather than burned. "He taught me to put others before myself."

The development of Davis, as a man rather than a player, could prove to be Singletary's lasting legacy in the Bay Area.

"I never thought I'd be doing anything like this," said Davis, surrounded by Fillmore swells and art students at his art opening. "I didn't start painting until I was in college. It's not something you would do where I grew up. The thing to do there was play football and hang out."

It wasn't long after he got to the University of Maryland that he changed his major from criminal justice to studio art. He hasn't stopped painting since then. And now he wants to pass along that gift to other kids who might think art isn't cool.

As Davis made his way around the room, shaking hands and giving hugs, a young boy from the Fillmore stood outside the window of the gallery, looking in on another world.

"That looks like a Hollywood party in there," he said as I walked out. "That's cool."

Here's Jonny: Some people have all the luck. Jonny Moseley makes his own.

Ever since winning a gold medal at the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, the freestyle skier has lived a life most of us can only dream of.

Summers are spent in his Tiburon home, surrounded by his wife, Malia, and his sons Jack, 4, and Tommy, 1.

In the winter, Moseley, 36, travels the world, filming and narrating ski movies on some of the globe's gnarliest terrain.

One of his main gigs is with Warren Miller's movie crew. Moseley has been skiing in the films since the mid-1990s and narrating them for years.

Miller's latest film, "Like There's No Tomorrow," premieres in the Bay Area this week. And it features a segment in which Moseley skis at Squaw Valley with his son, Jack.

"We did a segment from Squaw," said Moseley, who serves as an ambassador and spokesperson for the ski resort. "They gave us all the access we wanted. We had (extreme skiers) J.T. Holmes and Michelle Parker out there and they did insane things on the mountain. They covered that part of Squaw, which it's famous for.

"But the filmmakers also wanted to show the other part of Squaw. The part about kids. They told me, 'You're going to cover that part.' "

And that's how young Jack Moseley came to be featured in a Warren Miller film before he hit kindergarten.

Moseley said his son is doing fine on the slopes, but it will be a while before he can keep up with dad.

"I was skiing with (longtime racer and extreme skier) Daron Rahlves a couple of years ago and he showed me a video of his twins skiing at 15 months. I said, 'I gotta put my boy on skis.' "

Believe it or not, it's not even Jack's first appearance in one of Mr. Miller's flicks.

"When I first came back to narrate the Miller films a few years back , we went over to Japan for a movie," Moseley said. "Jack got a cameo in that one. So, this is his second film."

Like I said, who needs luck when your last name is Moseley?

North Beach Niners: Once a month, a group of regulars gathers at Gino & Carlo's bar in North Beach for a sit-down lunch. It's a classic San Francisco affair, with long tables, big plates and loud laughter.

Like at any city gathering worth its scungilli, the talk around the tables turned to the San Francisco 49ers, or soon-to-be Santa Clara 49ers.

"I grew up in the Sunset," said John Gelinas, 59. "My dad and I used to walk to Kezar to see the Niners. People would park on our street and walk up to the stadium.

"I think it's a bad idea for them to move to Santa Clara because they'll lose their San Francisco identity. I wouldn't go down there to see the team. Maybe once, but not again."

Across the table, Oakland native Dan Sanford, 55, smirked and gave an answer worthy of a DeBartolo: "This is a riverboat redo. It's never going to happen."

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Six years into a solid NFL career, the onetime brash and emotional tight end has emerged as a mature leader – both in his locker room and his community.

On the field, his growth has been clear. Two seasons ago, he tied the NFL mark for most touchdown receptions by a tight end in a single season. Since then, he has been the Niners’ most consistent downfield threat. In the locker room and on the sideline, Davis has provided the vocal presence Frank Gore and Patrick Willis cannot.

Off the field, a grown-up Davis is a whirlwind of activity, plowing his newfound wealth – courtesy of last season’s $39 million contract extension – into an array of philanthropies and businesses.

He recently opened an interior-design company with his business partner Antone Barnes, a music-industry veteran who has worked with the likes of Stevie Wonder and Jay-Z.

Davis’ charity work revolves around the Davis Family Foundation, a nonprofit he founded that supports art scholarships, a football academy and a halfway house for addicted and abused women, among other things.

The foundation’s work was on display at a gallery opening in San Francisco on Friday night, as was his artwork. Davis is an avid painter whose acrylic on canvas works will be on display for the next two weeks at the 1307 Gallery on Fillmore St.

This particular show was in support of a new program Davis is supporting called the A.R.T. Ambassador Youth Program. Chosen middle-school students will be put on a four-year curriculum stressing arts and life skills, ideas that Davis says were foreign to him growing up in a rough part of Washington, D.C.

“This is important for young men to see,” said Melorra Green, who co-founded A.R.T. with her twin sister, Melonie. “You don’t have to pick up a gun or deal drugs.”

Who would have thought that the young Vernon Davis would become such a well-rounded individual? Isn’t this the man Mike Singletary ordered off the field in his very first game as head coach? Isn’t this the man who got in a fight with Michael Crabtree in practice last year? Yup. Same man, different attitude.

“Coach Singletary definitely touched my life,” said Davis, the rare pro athlete who was shown up in public and learned rather than burned. “He taught me to put others before myself.”

The development of Davis, as a man rather than a player, could prove to be Singletary’s lasting legacy in the Bay Area.

“I never thought I’d be doing anything like this,” said Davis, surrounded by Fillmore swells and art students at his art opening. “I didn’t start painting until I was in college. It’s not something you would do where I grew up. The thing to do there was play football and hang out.”

It wasn’t long after he got to the University of Maryland that he changed his major from criminal justice to studio art. He hasn’t stopped painting since then. And now he wants to pass along that gift to other kids who might think art isn’t cool.

As Davis made his way around the room, shaking hands and giving hugs, a young boy from the Fillmore stood outside the window of the gallery, looking in on another world.

“That looks like a Hollywood party in there,” he said as I walked out. “That’s cool.”

Here’s Jonny: Some people have all the luck. Jonny Moseley makes his own.

Ever since winning a gold medal at the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano, the freestyle skier has lived a life most of us can only dream of.

Summers are spent in his Tiburon home, surrounded by his wife, Malia, and his sons Jack, 4, and Tommy, 1.

In the winter, Moseley, 36, travels the world, filming and narrating ski movies on some of the globe’s gnarliest terrain.

One of his main gigs is with Warren Miller‘s movie crew. Moseley has been skiing in the films since the mid-1990s and narrating them for years.

Miller’s latest film, “Like There’s No Tomorrow,” premieres in the Bay Area this week. And it features a segment in which Moseley skis at Squaw Valley with his son, Jack.

“We did a segment from Squaw,” said Moseley, who serves as an ambassador and spokesperson for the ski resort. “They gave us all the access we wanted. We had (extreme skiers) J.T. Holmes and Michelle Parker out there and they did insane things on the mountain. They covered that part of Squaw, which it’s famous for.

“But the filmmakers also wanted to show the other part of Squaw. The part about kids. They told me, ‘You’re going to cover that part.’ “

And that’s how young Jack Moseley came to be featured in a Warren Miller film before he hit kindergarten.

Moseley said his son is doing fine on the slopes, but it will be a while before he can keep up with dad.

“I was skiing with (longtime racer and extreme skier) Daron Rahlves a couple of years ago and he showed me a video of his twins skiing at 15 months. I said, ‘I gotta put my boy on skis.’ “

Believe it or not, it’s not even Jack’s first appearance in one of Mr. Miller’s flicks.

“When I first came back to narrate the Miller films a few years back , we went over to Japan for a movie,” Moseley said. “Jack got a cameo in that one. So, this is his second film.”

Like I said, who needs luck when your last name is Moseley?

North Beach Niners: Once a month, a group of regulars gathers at Gino & Carlo’s bar in North Beach for a sit-down lunch. It’s a classic San Francisco affair, with long tables, big plates and loud laughter.

Like at any city gathering worth its scungilli, the talk around the tables turned to the San Francisco 49ers, or soon-to-be Santa Clara 49ers.

“I grew up in the Sunset,” said John Gelinas, 59. “My dad and I used to walk to Kezar to see the Niners. People would park on our street and walk up to the stadium.

“I think it’s a bad idea for them to move to Santa Clara because they’ll lose their San Francisco identity. I wouldn’t go down there to see the team. Maybe once, but not again.”

Across the table, Oakland native Dan Sanford, 55, smirked and gave an answer worthy of a DeBartolo: “This is a riverboat redo. It’s never going to happen.”